


Loyalty

by lucymonster



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: HYDRA Trash Party, Jealousy, M/M, Manipulation, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:37:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6942001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/pseuds/lucymonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Remember, Soldat: your strength alone is worthless to Hydra. It is your compliance that makes you valuable. It is because of your compliance that you are so very dear to us.”</i>
</p>
<p>The Soldier is jealous of Hydra's new death squad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to osprey_archer for the tolerance and typo-spotting.

The test subjects have been wrangled into stasis, K Block is in clean-up, and Vasily Karpov is sitting down to write up his notes on the day’s proceedings when he realises he has forgotten the Soldier.

This is not a common occurrence. Vasily runs his base like a well-oiled machine: everyone has his proper role, his proper place, his proper schedule to follow. No screw should ever be left loose to knock around the corridors at will. But today was an unusually trying day, and the Soldier is still reasonably fresh from his last wipe; he won’t have gone far. He’ll be waiting wherever Vasily left him last – which, from memory, means the K Block main corridor outside the training room.

A shame. Vasily was looking forward to getting his records in order with the day still fresh in his mind.

But sure enough, the Soldier is waiting exactly where was left. After everything that’s happened today, Vasily is in a mood to deeply appreciate some proper obedience. He approaches cautiously, just in case, but the Soldier doesn’t look unsettled. He’s staring at the opposite wall of the corridor, eyes blank and distant. He’s favouring his left leg. Sloppy. They should have had him in medical after the beating he took earlier.

“With me, Soldat.” The Soldier snaps out of his daze at once, brightening visibly. “Report on your guard shift.” No need for the Soldier to know that his long wait in the corridor was an accident. Better if he feels he has done something useful with his time.

The Soldier blinks, several times in quick succession. It’s a tic Vasily knows well; it means he is unsure of himself. “The cleaners came through,” he says. He’s thinking hard, eyes darting around the corridor. “About an hour ago.”

“ _ About _ an hour ago?”

The Soldier’s mouth tightens. He doesn’t know the answer.

“You weren’t paying attention,” says Vasily, and the Soldier’s jaw moves, he is chewing his tongue inside his mouth. Another tic – anxiety. “Very good, Soldier. At ease.”

It is Vasily’s policy that he does not take out the frustrations of a bad day on his underlings. His predecessor had a reputation as volatile and temperamental; he changed the rules to suit his moods and took little interest in the wellbeing of his subordinates. Perhaps that’s why, in the time since Vasily took over the Winter Soldier project, productivity has increased more than 200%. 

Vasily is even-handed in his use of both the stick and the carrot. He does not let mistakes go unpunished, but he also does not let obedience go unrewarded. The Soldier, Vasily has found, requires regular doses of both.

The Soldier’s posture relaxes, but he doesn’t stop chewing his tongue as Vasily leads him to the mess hall. He’s agitated about something. Probably his defeat earlier today has upset him. The Soldier is not used to losing fights, and so he lacks the skills to bounce back quickly from the disappointment of defeat; hardly something Vasily can consider a weakness.

“It was nice,” he says, “to see you pitted against a strong opponent for once. Not all kills can be as easy as you are accustomed to, Soldat.”

The Soldier’s jaw tightens again. “Sir, my orders weren’t to kill–”

“I should think not,” says Karpov. They’ve reached the mess hall now. Cook sees them coming and starts dishing out the Soldier’s meal, a heaped serving of plump pelmeni and steaming hot borscht. “Take a seat, Soldat. Eat.” Vasily sits down beside him and waves to Cook for a cup of tea. “With the help of the serum you recovered for us, these soldiers will be invaluable to our cause. Their strength is without rival. Their cunning, their ruthlessness, their tactical brilliance – all without rival. We will achieve great things with them as our agents.”

“Heil Hydra,” says the Soldier, quietly and without much feeling. He spears two dumplings and stuffs them both whole in his mouth, chewing without a single sign of pleasure. Usually Cook’s pelmeni are the Soldier’s very particular favourite.

“You are displeased by this victory for Hydra, Soldat?”

The Soldier’s throat bobs as he quickly swallows his mouthful. “No, sir.”

“Then you are displeased by your meal?”

“No, sir.” His mouth is twisting into a grimace. Perhaps he realises the error in his attitude, or perhaps he is trying not to choke on his barely-chewed dumpling. Vasily must be sure before he takes action.

“But you are displeased by something,” says Vasily. Cook appears at his elbow with his cup of tea. He takes it from her and waves her away, back to the kitchen. “Speak openly, Soldat.”

The Soldier is not used to being ordered to speak his mind. It takes him several attempts to manage it; his mouth opens and closes uselessly, searching for words. “I could have overpowered him,” he says at last.

“I disagree, Soldat,” Vasily says. “These new soldiers are stronger than you. That much was made evident this morning.” The Soldier’s eyes flash; he’s getting emotional, and working so hard to contain it, and Vasily feels a rare surge of affection for his charge. He had feared that witnessing the riot earlier today might have awoken a seed of rebellion in the Soldier’s mind, but no; he is as compliant as ever, even in distress. “Surely,” Vasily says, “you are not  _ jealous _ of your new companions?”

The Soldier drops his gaze. His jaw works harder than ever; he doesn’t dare lie directly. 

Jealousy is an unbecoming emotion. The Soldier should know better than to place his pride above Hydra’s need for progress. But the day has been a difficult one for all involved, and Vasily is prepared to indulge this one small foible. There are worse things to encourage in the Soldier than a desire to impress his superiors. “They are better warriors than you,” Vasily says, and tilts the Soldier’s head up to look him in the eye. “But they are not better soldiers. They are untrained, undisciplined. They lack your loyalty and your obedience.”

Dinner is going cold. Vasily must remember to have the meal replaced later. Right now there are more important things to address. “You know,” he says, “that a soldier’s worth is in his ability to please his superiors. Those willful beasts downstairs are strong, and useful, but they do not please me.”

The Soldier holds perfectly still as Vasily leans in, tracing the Soldier’s lips with his thumb. Vasily has not tried this before; it was rumoured to be a habit of his predecessor, whom Vasily has always viewed as unnecessarily self-indulgent. But today’s incident calls for rather more decisive measures than a talking-to and a bowl of pelmeni. 

“Get on your knees, Soldat,” he says, and the Soldier complies immediately. His eyes do not leave Vasily’s face. 

He unbuttons his fly, and feels a pleasant twinge of anticipation. The Soldier waits, motionless, balanced on his haunches. His expression betrays no hint of surprise or confusion. Clearly he is familiar with this drill. “Please me, Soldat,” Vasily orders. “Remind me of your loyalty to Hydra.”

Carefully, hesitantly, the Soldier leans into Vasily’s lap and parts his lips. Vasily feeds his soft cock into the Soldier’s mouth and the Soldier opens wider, makes a strange little noise that could be protest or pleasure. Vasily chooses to interpret it as the second. He holds there for a while as his cock throbs to full hardness in the Soldier’s mouth and then pushes in further, takes a hold of the Soldier’s head between his hands. “Good job, Soldat,” he murmurs. “You’re doing well today. I’m so pleased with you.”

The Soldier bobs his head. He’s sloppy, not terribly skilled, nothing like the cherry-lipped Moscow whores Vasily made use of on his last furlough. But there are few women at the Siberian base, and none who are available for any such purpose, and Vasily’s breath quickens as he reangles the Soldier’s head to suit him better. He thrusts, shallowly at first, then deeper when he is sure the Soldier will not gag. His eyelids flutter closed and he imagines he is back in Nastya’s richly perfumed boudoir, reclining on a soft bed, running his hands through her luscious blonde hair. 

“So well behaved,” he says, and cups the Soldier’s face. He can feel his own stiff cock through the Soldier’s cheek. “What do you have to be jealous of, Soldat? Those animals downstairs, they should envy you. Only you have earned Hydra’s trust.”

The Soldier makes the same muffled noise again. He works down further, lips tight and warm and wet around the very base of Vasily’s cock. He is not Nastya, but he’s finding his rhythm now, moving his head more fluidly, remembering to use his tongue. “Good, Soldat. So good. You’re so good for me.”

It doesn’t last long – it doesn’t need to. Vasily’s hands clench tight in the Soldier’s hair when he comes, holding his head firmly in place, spilling his pleasure down the Soldier’s throat. He keeps holding him there as he softens, stroking the Soldier’s hair, feeling the Soldier continue to swallow convulsively around him as he breathes rapidly through his nose.

When Vasily lets go, the Soldier’s eyes are watering. He falls back on his heels, panting for breath. “Excellent,” Vasily says. “Remember, Soldat: your strength alone is worthless to Hydra. It is your compliance that makes you valuable. It is because of your compliance that you are so very dear to all of us.”

He strokes the Soldier’s cheek. The Soldier’s lashes flutter, he leans into the touch. Perhaps Vasily should do this more often. It has proved an effective circuit-breaker, for himself as well as for the Soldier.

“Get up,” Vasily says gently. He buttons himself away and calls for Cook. “Bring fresh plates, and take these cold ones away,” he tells her. “Bring something sweet as well. Soldat has earned a treat.”

He takes a moment, before he leaves, to ruffle the Soldier’s hair. “Good work today,” he says. “You have no reason to envy those other creatures, Soldat. Your loyalty to Hydra will always be rewarded.”

Vasily takes his cooling tea back with him to his desk. Today's records will not file themselves; there is still a long evening ahead of him.


End file.
